


Just for him

by Natrix



Category: Glass (2019), Split (2016)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Broken Dennis, Broken O/C, Caretaking, Cold Dennis, Comfort, F/M, Fantasy Fulfillment, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Prostitution, Psychological Trauma, Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-31 05:23:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18584641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natrix/pseuds/Natrix
Summary: Dennis has finally had enough of only bringing girls to satisfy the Beast, his own dark urges stirred, but not satisfied by the sacrifices. He takes a secret break to do a little hunting for himself for once and finds more than he thought he wanted, and exactly what he needed.





	Just for him

Dennis was watching them. Their long lean legs that disappeared up too small shorts, or leggings that hugged every curve.

These though, they were not for the beast, these ones were for him. The air hung heavy with moisture. The noise of the cars rushing by distance. The smell of urine was enough to make him pull his cloth from his pocket, which was carefully folded and hold it over his mouth as he paced across the street, eyes trained on the women across that sauntered, waving to cars enticingly with their hips and, eyes and breasts.  
These ones were rougher, than he’d like. older. He kept moving. Kept walking. Horns blared in the dusk, the red orange and yellow lights blinking as a new life took the city, Music poured from the clubs that displayed on screens swaying and arching, their calves taught and bodies firm. He lingered but did not stay. They weren’t what he wanted. He turned his collar up, his hands buried into his pockets against the nip of the wind against his cheeks and neck.  
Then he saw her. A too small frame hiding in a tacky too big cropped leather jacket. What was it about her? She screamed teen with a indolence in her gait, and a obstinance in her pout. Her lean belly exposed at the midriff that met a low hung skirt on her hips that reached mid thigh. Long boots that she hobbled on as if she wore them for the first time.  
They covered her from toe to just above the knee. He watched her carefully from afar, saw her hanging back from the cars as they went by, her arms tucked around her in indecision. Dennis sucked in a breath as he crossed the street down from her, wind whipping his face, his eyes never leaving her. A car had slowed by the curb, the passenger window rolled down, he waved at her and she hesitated. Another one of the women quickly snatched the open window.  
Dennis was closing in, his body humming in anticipation when a man who’d he’d hardly noticed grabbed the girl by the arm suddenly. He moved about her like a snake ready to strike. Dennis took his hands from his pockets, his ears catching the conversation as he neared. Her eyes had slid past the pimp to Dennis who was approaching. She’d seen him watching her across the street, it was hard not to considering the intensity of his stare. Her cheek turned stubbornly away from the pimp as he hissed too close to her face.  
“You stupid Bitch, your here to work, you catch that?” Her eyes said something like, what are you waiting for?  
“How much?” Dennis cut in, allowing her to jerk her arm out of the pimps bruising grip, a curl to her lip. The man had seedy round eyes, a gold chain on his neck and greasy hair. He straightened up, half lidded eyes looked Dennis over in a way that made him feel like he needed to clean himself.  
“Depends what your interested in, right sweety?” The man leered at her. Her face was pale caramel hinting at mixed blood, nose pink in the cool evening air. She simply rolled her tongue through her teeth and shrugged.  
“The night.” Dennis told the man and his face lit up before he leaned down hissing something into the girls ear that Dennis couldn’t quite catch as a car blared its horn and the wind gusted against his ears. The man pulled another greasy grin “You two have fun now, ai Sweetheart?” He slapped her ass making her lose balance on the rickety heels. She had to catch Dennis’s arm to stabilize herself, throwing a dark look over her shoulder, before her attention shifted back to Dennis. Here eyes were dark and coy. “We got rooms if ya-?” She had a heavy philly accent, Dennis was wooden beneath her grip on his arm.  
“I have a place.” Dennis told her and she nodded, allowing him to lead her. Her feet were killing her and she was about to ask how close they were, becoming annoyed when they stopped outside one of the seedy motels. He took a money clip from his pocket and pulled out a crisp fifty, her eyes darted over the wad of cash there with an hollowed eyed famishnessness.  
“Go in, ask for a room, come back with the key.” He ordered. She moved to reach for the money when he pulled it just out of her reach. “I’ll be waitin’ right here.” He warned and she forced a fake smile on her face while she took the money. It fell away as soon as she was turned. She rolled her tongue in her mouth wondering what kind of shit she was going to put up with. He was the kind it was hard to tell the stoic. 50/50 chance he’d was going to get his jollies off roughing her up, or want to piss on her. She preferred the piss. There was a slim chance he’d thrust three times and be done and use the reset of the night talking. One could hope. He didn’t seem like a talker.  
The hotel wasn’t the kind that asked questions and preferred cash to card. Dennis watched her enter, his hands buried back inside his coat pockets while he waited. She returned with the key on her finger. Dennis accepted it, his hand outstretched flat with the orange cloth. He rubbed the key down with a slightly disgusted expression before refolding the square and placing it back in his pocket.  
The girl watched him silently, trying to keep her face shaped into something of a plastic smile whenever he looked up even though his face was cold and blank and gave her more chills then the wind biting at her exposed skin.

\---

The room smelled of cigarettes and a amalgamation of different body fluids. Dennis grimaced as he entered and shrugged his bag off his shoulders to the ground.  
“I don’t do nothin’ roo rough.” She drawled dropping to sit on the bed, eager to be off her aching feet. Dennis wasn’t paying attention, preoccupied with removing his backpack which he unshouldered to sit on the ground. Her eyes narrowed with suspicion as he rummaged in his bag and pulled out a leather tool roll. Here come the freaks toys. The hair on her neck rose and she spoke up again a little more forcefully.  
“Hey, you listenin?” He paused enough to give her an irritated look, his mouth pursed. He swiped his tongue briefly over his bottom lip.  
“Understood, now please be quiet.”  
“Ya gotta pay first,before we do nothin’. And the whole night, tha’s gonna be a lot.” She said, jutting her chin. Dennis looked up a sigh escaping him and he carefully placed his leather roll back down. Movements somewhat jerky with irritation as he pulled his money clip out.  
“How much?” He asked shortly and beneath his hard sharp eyes she looked away. Her mind scrambling for a number high enough for her to skim some off the top for Marv her pimp.  
“Four.” He made a noise, like a scoff or a kind of derisive grunt from the back of his throat, and and threw the clip at her, making her jump to catch it before he turned his back to her resuming his activities.  
“Now be quiet.” He said, his deep Boston accent filling the small dingy room. She rolled her tongue in her cheek and shrugged, but a smile caught the corners of her mouth. She unclipped the money and counted it carefully, mouthing the numbers silently a stitch forming between her brows. She had to stop and restart several times.  
Her baby face twisting around the numbers. Dennis left her to it, bringing his leather roll into the bathroom. She heard water running there, and it interrupted her third attempt to count it out. She snuck a glance at the door, wondering if she should just bail out, taking the four hundred and heading taking the night off. 

But if it came back to Marv she’d be gutted. He’d bruise her up so bad that it would make her wish this guy had done her in. At least the dough is good. She thought biting her cheek. 

 

He re-emerged from the bathroom sans leather wrapped tools and she leaned back on the bed further sliding her legs apart, her chest arched upwards, putting on he her best pout. Dennis’s eyes darted from her body to her face and to the ground. He shrugged off his jacket, placing it over the rickety chair at the desk and crossed his arms, fabric of his shirt tightening against his broad chest as he leaned on the desk. He seemed uncomfortable with looking at her too long as if she were a very bright light. She was suddenly leaning towards the off chance the night was going to end with three pumps and a man who wanted to rest his head on a young women chest for the company. She licked her lips, nibbling the lower one gently as she swept her eyes over him with far less reserve or discomfort than he harbored. He seemed to grow slightly more uncomfortable under the directness of her dark eyes. To combat that his voice struck out.  
“Your clothing. Remove them.” his voice was thick, but glacial, sending chills through her and somewhat weakening her confidence. She gave a forced congenial smile however and stood up. Like a show pony she dropped the coat from her shoulders then to the ground revealing the creamy skin of her shoulders. Dennis’s mouth went dry as her hips began to sway, she seemed to understand what he wanted without his specifying.  
Now his eyes didn’t leave her body for an instant. Like a cobra sedated by the flute. She danced to a beat in her own head. Confident that if she had to, she could do it all night. She bent at her hip enticingly, peeking her cheeks and pink panties at him below her mini skirt, her hands skimming and squeezing herself before running up to her crop top which came up and over her head a she turned back to face him, throwing her dark curly locks over her shoulder she let it crumple at the floor.  
Hips swaying she directed his gaze with her fingers, brushing her own bare clavicle, skimming the swell of her b-breasts that were pushed up in the gaudy pink push up bra. His eyes followed her hands trailing down her belly to the top of her hips where she wriggled down and out of her mini skirt. Letting her fingers trace the inside of her thigh and up over her equally gaudy cheap looking bedazzled pink thong which her dark curls peeked through. Dennis cock ached in the tightness of his trousers, but he did not move, his breathing hitched arms tight. To her the intensity of his eyes bespoke a sort of virginal worship and hunger. She fell back on the bed, spreading herself and making a show of removing her boots. Her toes ached from their confinement. She flipped herself, knees on mattress and sitting up she wriggled her panties down. Dennis ached to take her like that, his cock straining at the thought of releasing them from their tight confinement for another kind of enclosure. For forcing her face to the bedsheet and having her spread for him begging. His jaw tensed. Muscles trembling with the excitement of a predator.  
She flipped herself again, arms reaching behind her to take the bra off, the clip giving way beneath her fingers breasts small but perky and full, nipples like milk chocolate. She waited for him to move but he only seemed to shudder, biting back a groan at the ache. Restless with impatience she stood and crossed the space between them. Dennis was fixated, as she ran her hands down his shoulders. She felt strength there that surprised her and even sent small sparks of arousal through her.  
Touching a john was always nerve wracking. It was easy to be unfeeling when you were the one being touched and manhandled, but it was more difficult for emotions not to stir when you were the one touching. Nervousness flitted through her as she slid her hands over the the fabric, Her hand were cool but that wasn’t why he shivered as her hands met his. She felt a strength there too and as if to fill the air with something other than their breath and tensions shared, she said so.  
“Your preddy strong, huh?” He allowed her to take his hand between two of hers, his nostrils flaring with heavy breaths as she brought his hand to her lips, her pouty delicious lips which parted for a pink tongue that sent a wave of heat pulsing through him all the way to his cock. A noise escaped, caught between a whimper and a grunt. His eyes fluttered shut and he felt the velvet of his skin beneath his fingertips which she traced his hand down as she had done on the dance.  
Her murmur again filled the space between them with something other than breaths. “Do you want to touch?” His eyes opened the instant she pressed his hand against the soft globe of flesh. He let out a shuddering gasp, eyes open, in something almost like panic startling her. The tenderness of the touch of her hands became cold dread as she suddenly shoved them up her shirt, her eyes were sparkling with a kind of coy cruelty, her friends face filled with the same empty laughter. Desire and horror and shame intermingled with the feeling of helplessness.  
She gave a little yelp as he tore his hand from her and grabbed her roughly by the arm.  
“No, be quiet.” He snarled with such a ferocity she cowered, tripping over her own feet as he led her to the bathroom. Tears stung her eyes.  
“Hey!” she managed, the sound weaker than she’d like and more like a small cry. He’d already shoved her into the bathroom, his body blocking the door. She saw with a blink that the tub was full and the leather rolled case was unrolled on the vanity exposing to her surprise what looked like a bathroom set. She didn’t have time to really process before he pushed her further into the room, closing the door behind him. “What the fuck?” She demanded, hissing and spitting like an angry kitten.  
“Get in.” She’d almost forgotten that voice, the dark command it carried.  
“No need to be rough abowdit!” She snapped, eyes stinging and pulling her arm which felt bruised under his grip. His nostrils flared, and he shifted in agitation. She stepped into the tub. The water was hot but not scalding. Despite her heart jammed into her throat it felt good, soothing. She wasn’t expecting this at all, but accepted she was along for the ride until it was over. Dennis unbuttoned his cuffs, carefully rolling his sleeves up his muscular forearms. She lay back, sumburging her hair and he watched her breasts which he’d been invited to hold moments ago make little peaks above the surface before she sat up again. Cuffs safely up took a rough terry cloth in his hands as well as a bar of soap.  
Kneeling by the bath he soaked the towel and lathered the soap bar between it. Then without speaking he took the back of her head in his one hand to hold her in place. She gave a little cry of derision which gave him tremors of excitement as she sputtered around the cloth that wiped and washed her face clean of the too heavy smokey eyed makeup that had adorned her face and the thick foundation. She grabbed his hand holding the cloth and attempted to pull it away, eyes stinging with soapy water.  
“What. the. Fack! Stahp!”  
“Stay. Still.” She stiffened and gritted her teeth but stopped, too powerfully aware of the strength in his hands and arms and feeling small and vulnerable. When he finished her face was scrubbed clean pink and fresh if not somewhat raw, her maquera and eyeliner smeared on the cloth. She glowered at him and he paid no attention, merely dropping his grip from her head and grabbing a new cloth and soaping it methodically. What the fuck is wrong with him she wanted to ask but bit her tongue. Stiffening again as he brought the cloth down her neck as he began to methodically was her, none too gently until he reached her breasts.  
His arousal re-surged and he was brought back from his own mind by her small breathy wince as he cupped the soft mound gently drawing circles over it and massaging massaging while his stomach flipped watching her nipples harden. She’ been expecting pain, the breath was one of anxious expectation of it, fearing one of her tender spots He seemed to come back to the room with that noise as if only becoming suddenly aware of her discomfort. His motions were less aggressive and slowly she eased beneath his ministrations, slipping carefully back into the water her head against the cracked porcelain. She chewed her lip nervously watching his expression of single minded, now careful focus and only held her breath as he reached her curly haired mound.The cloth was administered in gentle strokes, not quite reaching between her folds. He was faster there then with her breasts and was soon moving down her legs and skimming back up before he stopped and wrung the cloth dry into the water. Folding it with a flip and laying it neatly on the side. 

 

“Sit up.” He ordered voice thick and she did, her back cooling in the ambient air. He stood, and she could see his erection was tight in his pants. He was strange she thought but so far nothing too horrifying. She’d heard about guys like him from the older girls, just never had one herself. Dennis grabbed some items from the counter and returned to the bath side, he handed her a razor and shaving cream. “Shave yourself.” He said without really looking at her and taking a bottle of shampoo that had probably come from his kit he placed a dollop in his palms.  
She took the razor and cream. Having to sit up further, and awkwardly attempt to change her position so her mound was above the waterline, she’d assumed he’d want the whole show but a sudden noise of annoyance escaped him “Sit here, on the edge.” she got up, knees squeaking as she say on the edge of the tub facing away from him. He began sudsing her hair, combing it through with his strong deft hands. She moved, spreading her legs as she applied the mousse, beginning to shave, dipping her blade repeatedly to clear the hair from it. She paused at the feelings of his fingers working at her scalp unconsciously leaning into the touch.  
He felt it, the only thing holding him back from pressing his body against her was he residual glimmering droplets and his clothing constraining him. He cleared his throat, encouraging her head to bow forward and moving her hair over her shoulder to hang over the tub so he could rinse the suds out with a cup without her dripping water onto the floor. She sighed as the warmth coursed over her heads and shivered as it broke at her bowed neck, cooling as it trailed down her body. He repeated and she waited until he was satisfied and she was allowed to raise her head to finish the task he’d given her. The blade scraped roughly over the course hairs. Like pulling weeds. She winced re-applying the cream until it was smooth and the blade met no resistance. He was palming her hair, the smell of lilacs surrounding them as conditioned it, his fingers sliding through with ease. She placed the razor and cream beside her, indicating she had finished.and he motioned for her to re-enter the tub.  
“Rinse.” He instructed and she sighed slipping back into the warm water again. She’d closed her eyes, raising her hands to pull her hair under the water as she relaxed backwards when she felt his fingers skimming her thighs and her eyes snapped open. She tensed instinctually as he brought his hand between her legs, moving for her mound. Her stomach twisted as his fingers skittered across the the scars like a skipping rock and froze. Sliding backwards to thumb the raised flesh as if curious about what she’d hidden in the deepest part of her thighs. It was everything she had not to pull herself back and up, to push his hand away. As it was she managed to only squeeze her thighs together in discomfort, hating the feel of his hand between them and a sharp ragged breath carrying the weight of her distress.  
“Shh-shh, its okay.” He said it with such a gentleness in his voice that she couldn’t help but turn her eyes to him. He was looking at her. No, not past her, or his eyes set on the idea of her with desire in his eyes, no, he was looking.at.her. With so much compassion and tenderness she couldn’t help but feel tears prickle behind her eyes.”Scars, they make you stronger, they make you real.” His voice was different, tone softer, his hand moved between her thighs again, stroking the scars with the rough pads of his fingers. She trembled, clamped around his hand. She wanted to yell at him, to hit him, call him a disgusting pervert, but his words had pierced her a sudden blow to the weakest part of her.  
“I don’t feel real.” She said her own voice surprising her.  
“It hurts bein’ awake, but it makes you powerful.” His gaze was one of absolute seriousness and sincerity. His hand slipped out from between her thighs and it was then she felt bereft of the weight and feel of him there. He sat back on his heels his gaze becoming distant, his head shaking. “I’m sorry. I- ah, this is wrong I shouldn’t be here.” the voice of authority had fallen away leaving the man, ashamed and uncertain. Shame was beginning to cascade through Dennis. He’d only been seeking relief from the buildup of his desires that continually collecting the impure for the beast brought him. This one wasn’t meant to be for them, Patricia and the Beast. This one had just been meant for him, his secret, like the porn he used to watch when he could manage to slip into the light.  
Wherein the basement the porn was his relief, his only outlet beyond fantasizing about the young women who skirted around him, now his work was to look, but not touch, to be tempted every day he stalked for him, found unworthy for him to devour. Nothing was left for Dennis but an ache. Here he had made a mistake. Thought he could simply pay for what he desired, though her looks, her baby face that screamed indolence and haughty contempt, it had been a mask. A face of aloofness like Barry or Jade. He couldn’t hurt someone like them. Though he might burn for relief, his stomach sour with despair and desire.  
Their was seduction of her curves and that pout to her lip. But the truth was it was not merely the body that drove his ache: but a craving for ruination, consummation and domination over the ones that flashed through all of their shared memories. Over the ones that had hurt them.  
His war was brief and silent, he was moving to leave when her hand slipped out of the water, capturing his, drawing him back sharply to the cramped bathroom that was scented with the bleach of his cleaning supplies and the heady scent of lilac conditioner.  
“It don’t have’ta be wrong.” She whispered, having sat up to grip the edge of the tub, water streaming down her in rivelets. “Don’t you wanna touch me?” She murmured watching the struggle and uncertainty warring behind his glasses. He was looking for the lie in her eyes, breath caught between his teeth.  
“D-do you want me to?” Earnest question edged ever so slightly with warning. He waited for the lie: the shifted glance, the flash of forced pleasantry over the disgust. But her soft sad smile was nothing like the forced one earlier when he’d brought her here. There was no condescension in it, no lie, no false coyness, but a genuine tentative shyness instead. She didn’t answer and instead lowered his hand again to her chest, this time she pressed his palm against his sternum rather of forcing his hand onto her breast as she had before. His hand slid over on his own, cupping the breast tenderly in his hand, thumb drawing over the nipple which was cool in the open air. She shivered at the sensitive touch and drew her bottom lip between her teeth.  
Thoughts of leaving deserted Dennis as he rested his knees back onto the tile. He gently moved his hand back to her chest and made her rest backwards again in the water. His left hand moving to once again slide up her thigh. She parted them this time willingly drawing a low groan of desire from him which hitched in the back of his throat. As for herself hadn’t felt genuine desire for a long time, she’d thought the possibility was gone forever, but like a desert flower she’d bloomed beneath the water, her own fluids quickening at his touch in ways that left her flush and with a deep ache.  
With his right hand on her chest he felt her heartbeat thrumm and breath hitch as his hand again stroked that secret garden of scars in the deepest part of her thigh, her arousal was thickening the air around him making it hard for him to focus, she squirmed enticingly as his hand kneaded that sweet spot and she felt the heat of it strike her core like a hammer striking hot steel on an anvil. He throbbed with each squirm and the heat of her dark eyes watching. He slid his hand up to the folds between her thigh, the skin was smooth and slippery with her desire.  
“Oh god.” His accent thick, and his voice deep and low, she keened as he slide his knuckle through her folds causing her hips to buckle in the water. She grabbed his forearm that rested on her chest as if it could hold her steady as he toyed with her, each pulse of her arousal sending shocks of it through him. Her thighs squeezed tight around his hand, this time in the curl of pleasure rather than fear. Dennis eyes couldn’t drink in enough of her, his hand a root, seeking the wetness of between her thighs, soaking her up. Her body was flushing with his ministrations each stroke bringing a noise from her, the water lapping and stirring, her hair like a dark halo around her head. She was swelling with a torturous pleasure with each stroke until she was raw with desire past what his hands could offer her. She clamped tightly around his hand, her eyes flashing open, the hand on his forearm clamped. Dennis drew a hissing breath through his teeth meeting her dark eyes, the desire in them scorching him.  
“Do you want me?” Dennis asked.  
“Please.” She whispered It was all he’d needed to hear, his hand left her thighs, pulling the plug on the tub and standing despite the scream in his legs for having knelt too long. His hands were at his collar, each button popped with a dexterity of well trained fingers. He only faltered when her glistening body rose from the bathwater, her hands reaching for his belt. He hissed, suddenly feeling unstable, his hands steadying himself on her damp head as she worked the belt open, her own motions quick and methodical belying her own experience.  
The noise from the back of his throat of relief was enough to send heat gripping her core and she pressed her own thighs together, aching for his touch there again. His cock strained at his grey boxers and she freed him from them deftly, although pain lanced up her knees from where she knelt in the tub she focused only on the heat of him in her hand and the gutteral noise he made as she wrapped her hand around the silky flesh and gently stroked him, placing his head at her lips to suck gently at the salty sticky pre-cum that had begun. He was overwhelmed with sensations, he worried for an instant he’d lost the light but it was only the teasing of oblivion which krept to the edges of his vision, he throbbed at her lips. Pink tongue teasing and licking enough to make his eyes roll into the back of his head.  
He regained himself, cheeks puffing with exertion he stripped off the last piece of his clothing, the grey wife beater and taking her face into his hand he directed her to get up. Her legs protested as his had, knees red. The water was still draining he kicked off his shoes and socks, stepping in pressing his chest to her cool feeling wet body, it slide against his scorching one. His broad chest rising and falling as he pressed their bodies together. Hands gripping soft cool flesh, the intoxicating scent of lilacs. His face skimmed hers, she tilted towads him hungrily seeking. But his face was more shy and tentative than his hands were as they kneaded her ass his cock pressed just below her belly button crushed between their bodies. She nuzzled him, tenderly feeling the scrape of his stubble against her cheek and kissed him gently, tenderly.  
He trembled at her gyrations but the kisses, tender and sweet caused something like a half sob to escaped him before he lost the shred of control he’d had left. He hiked her up the wall by her hips, his muscles singing beneath his skin as his mouth moved to devour hers, filling her up with a deep thrust. She cried out against his mouth and he drank it in like a starved animal, his tongue entering her deeply, his own cries rasping low throaty moans as he rutted into her. Deep and hard, she could do nothing but hold on desperately to his muscled torso as he consumed her, her own mind fell away with each thrust. There was only the heat of his flesh against her cool damp skin, the molten churning deep in her belly as he reached the deepest parts of her, stoking her. She tightened around him, as if trying to hold him inside her longer. Her body sang for him. They sang together. The slapping sound of flesh against flesh and the inarticulate gasps and throaty groans. She felt him quickening inside her, her own excitement peaking as he hiked her up further, struggling to keep them balanced she was above him now with how he’d pressed her and she arched her breast to his mouth arms wrapping around his head as she clamped around him. Squeezing rhythmically with each thrust.  
“I’-I’m c-ah!” He brayed, his body seizing with the surge of orgasm as it completed, he spilled inside her as she squeezed him, each delicious pulse of her around him deepening the descent of the pleasure wracking him sweetening it until it hurt and his eyes stung with tears. He stumbled to the side, catching the wall with his arm while he panted, the room spinning around him like the thundering of a storm now passing and becoming still and quiet. Her legs managed to find purchase on the porcelain below her though she remained tucked into his body, still painting. Her own mind was quiet, sweet euphoria and dopamine filling her. They swayed together, catching their breath. She felt the heat of him trickling down her leg. Dennis was coming back to himself as he looked down. Mind still spinning.  
“I-I made you dirty, I’m sorry.” But he laughed when he said it, a deep sad kind of laugh that spoke of old pain mingled with relief. He was brushing her hair from her face, the damp strands clinging to her cheeks in clumps already becoming wavy as they’d begun to dry.  
“I guess you’ll have to clean me again.” She panted laying her cheek against his chest listening and feelings the deep breaths, drowsy, tired and giddy herself, He kept his arm against her lower back, But pulled her so he could turn on the shower head.  
The water was icy cold and made both of them shriek under its sputter, or she shrieked, Dennis let out a quiet grunt of discomfort, his arms clamping to her her tightly as she clamped to him until the icy water warmed and their breaths became less strangled and they both gave a quiet throaty laugh. He picked up the soap he’d used earlier, keen on taking her up on her offer to clean her. He slid his hands up and down her lithe caramel body making her hum beneath his ministrations. He soaped her breasts tenderly, tickled under her arms with some insistence, then suds her down her back and to the thick curve of her ass he slipped his fingers even there. Intent on leaving no part of her unclean. He moved to clean her pussy but she paused his soapy hand gently.  
“Soap will hurt me there.. Just water,” He nodded, placing her so that their body shared the stream he rinsed his hand and slipped it back down, collecting water in the cup of his palm between them and using it to rub gently back and forth. With his probing fingers coaxing the slippery mess from between her legs. She was tender and swollen, making small grimaces, but Dennis worked carefully at the area until he was satisfied. To his surprise she took the soap from his hand and began to lather him in kind. She was perhaps not as meticulous as he was, but the assuaging touch was enough to make him forget about that.  
When one has lived with a pain you get used to the weight of it, the longer the pain, the less you feel it over time. There's a shock when it disappears suddenly, as if the stark contrast reveals how deep the pain goes and so the echo of it wells up. The shock of her tender touches resounds through him like a lance in the gut and Dennis found a low sob escaping him. She blinked up at him, her dark eyes soft and sleepy with concern. She wonders if he regrets her already. But he’s still holding onto her, his head merely resting on the tile.  
“Its okay.” She murmurs tracing pale pink oddly shaped scars on his chest remembering the words he’d spoken to her. Scars make you stronger. That kind of belief only came from knowing. She felt bad for him, reduced to simply murmuring softly beneath her breath and rinsing his sudsy body. Dennis regains himself after a few moments. Their bodies squeak together their so clean and he turns of the shower retrieving them both towels, smoothing her hair again and again after he wrapped her shoulders in it while she carefully tucks his towel around his waist.  
“We should dress.” He forcing himself to say it allowed as much as he desired to do no such thing. She nodded giving him a shaky smile and wrapping the towel around her body, covering her lovely chest. Though his pounding desire had faded he couldn’t help but appreciate her lovely lithe form still and be disappointed as it disappeared from sight. 

Leaving the bathroom was like leaving a dream. The cool air of the hotel room, scented with smoke and sourness was a slap of reality drawing her back into her life. Dennis dressed the bathroom as she fumbled her clothing on in the room. She couldn’t stop the wake of despair that suddenly crushed her like a wave nearly knocking her off her feet. She had to cover her mouth to keep the despair from escaping.  
From the bathroom Dennis heard her shuffling. His own thoughts getting clearer, as he stared into the mirror of the bathroom, once that is he’d returned his glasses to his face. His normally ordered mind was in chaos, blinking with images of her body, the sensations of it still raw with his release. Yet by the same token reality was setting in. He’d paid for her, she’d go back to wherever she’d come from, none of this meant anything to her… She’d take her money and go. The thought made pain lance through him, its absence having been gone for but an instant before it had returned to him. He gathered himself by organizing the small space. Rinsing the tub and putting everything to proper order again. What would he walk out to? Would she, now having come to her senses pull away from him? He squeezed his hands into fists, urging himself calm. He’d need to face her eventually, so he resigned himself to it. 

Nothing could match the sting of the empty room waiting for him. Numbly he picked up the bra she’d forgotten and knotted it between his hands as he fought the wave of emotion hitting him from all sides. Rage, grief, self hatred… he paced the the room, and even through his anger something caught his eye. His money clip.  
He exhaled shakily as he took it from the stand where she’d left it . He thumbed through it, counting carefully. He was missing only fifty from what he’d given her. She just took fifty… below the clip was a paper slip that wasn’t his , he picked it up a messy scrawl which he could only imagine to be her writing. His insides ached as he drew his eyes over each shaky letter written.  
‘Thank you for making me feel something again.’ -Belinda

Dennis folded the paper numbly and pocketed it carefully, his throat thick with grief and joy and longing and loss. With a shudder Dennis left the slipped away from the light. He needed time.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed. I've been very motivated lately to write Split works and this is the first/ only one I really finished to any satisfaction to myself. Currently just a one shot dose of smut but I can see Dennis and Belinda meeting again at some point.


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